


The Erlking With His Crown And Robe

by Cyberrat



Series: The Erlking [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Incest, M/M, Mind Control, Riding, Rimming, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:24:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1284346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Possessed!Stiles pulls Chris into the mix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Erlking With His Crown And Robe

**Author's Note:**

> Second installment in the series.
> 
> WARNING: Please note that this story contains incest as well as non-con/rape. Stiles is also seriously underage, so there is that.

John’s movements were sluggish as he pushed the door closed behind himself and slowly let his keys fall into the shallow bowl on top of the dresser. Just a few days prior he would have called for his son to let him know that he was at home.

Since those days, too much had changed, though. John shrugged out of his jacket, his shoulders feeling heavy and unwieldy as he slipped the garment onto one of the hooks. He just felt so tired. Such a bone deep fatigue he hadn’t felt since Claudia’s death.

“Daddy?”

He closed his eyes against the sweet voice of his son. The word sounded so _wrong_ , even coming from his own child. Stiles had never been a kid prone to cute endearments. At least he _hadn’t_ been. He had changed, though. Tremendously.

“Yes,” John answered, voice cracked and raw as he slipped out of his shoes, the little hair on the back of his neck standing on end as the voice called, “Come here.”

He did no longer even think of protesting. That icy shard that had driven itself into his brain days ago – when Stiles had come back early from school from a fight and this whole _thing_ had started – never let him stray too far. The coldness would only spread and make him feel numb. It made everything so much worse because he felt like a spectator in his own body as his hands betrayed him and touched his sick child without his consent.

And Stiles _was_ sick. There was something... something _in_ him. John could feel it. He _knew_ his son. And this – this wasn’t him.

“We got company.” Stiles sounded distinctly out of breath by now and the ice perpetually freezing up the edges of John’s being suddenly plunged into his stomach and made it feel heavy and disgusting. He looked around and – yeah. Yeah, there was another pair of shoes. Men’s shoes.

“Oh god...” John whispered, even as his feet slowly dragged him across the hall and towards the living room. The closer he got the better he could hear the soft slapping of skin on skin and the filthy squelching of lube.

His cock, the traitor, stirred in his pants like a trained dog. Just thinking of the expanse of freckled skin was enough to get him hot and bothered – and it really, really shouldn’t – but the thought of his son fucking another man right now... only metres away from him...

“Come on, daddy!” Stiles’ voice was venom, slithering over John’s nerves and corrupting him from the inside. There was another voice now. Deep and rough, panting like he had been running a marathon only moments ago – and just before the Sheriff stepped around the doorjamb, he knew. He just _knew_.

He stood there, staring at the picture of a naked Christopher Argent, sitting on the floor with his back leaning against the couch and Stiles riding him like a stallion, long, slim back impossibly arched and head thrown back so he could lock his black, endless eyes with John’s.

The Sheriff could only break his gaze away with great difficulty and even then his eyes first strayed to where his son fucked himself on the gloriously thick cock of Argent. His mouth became dry, staring at the spectacle before he searched for the face of the other man.

Argent’s teeth were gritted, snarling. His already ethereal blue eyes shining with hatred as he was forced by the little demon in his lap to grip those perfect hips tighter and fuck up into the boy. As John watched, Chris slowly dragged his legs up, taking leverage by planting his heels firmly into the rug and slamming up into the lithe body, abs scrunching and thick thigh muscles quivering.

He was a sight to behold, for sure.

Stiles mewled, the smug grin melting from his face only so he could lick with a pretty pink tongue along his whorishly ‘o’ shaped mouth. His lips were glistening wet and obscene.

“You like our new playmate, daddy?” he purred and fixed those inky eyes on the Sheriff. John tried – and failed – to shut out the sounds of the squelching lube and the slapping of heavy balls against the smooth ass of his child.

“What’s he doing here?” he ground out, hands balled into fists. He tried to ground himself with the pain of his short nails digging into his palm. Chris made a choked sound as if he wanted to say something, his head falling back onto the seats of the couch. Looking closer, John realized with a sinking feeling, that the other man wasn’t so much angry as he had thought previously, but _desperate_. There were honest to god tears shining in the corners of his clenched eyes.

God only knew what was going on inside the hunter that he was so obviously scared out of his mind.

“He’s come to check up on you. Thought you’d looked strange the past days. I thought it was cute. He likes you, daddy.” Stiles slowly leaned forward, nipping at the rough, stubbly jaw of Argent and scratching sharp fingernails across the man’s nipples.

“You like him too, don’t you?”

The question was rhetorical. Since Stiles wasn’t _Stiles_ anymore, there was simply nothing gained in trying to keep things from him. He just _knew_. He always knew. (That’s how he had known John would fall for him. For the soft, yielding body of his son. For the poisonous, delicious touches.)

Stiles grinned – sharp and wide. He looked like a carnivorous beast while plunging himself down onto the throbbing cock and ripping a sound of pained pleasure from Argent.

“Come, daddy. You may lick my ass while Mister Argent fucks me so, _so_ good.”

The two older men stared helplessly at each other even while John got into motion. Their eye contact only broke when the Sheriff slowly kneeled behind the bobbing, gorgeous form of his son. As he bent down and pulled those perfect ass cheeks apart, lapping without hesitation at the rim that was stretched around a frankly perfect, fat cock, he could hear his son cooing, “Oh... we’ll have so much fun with one another. So. Much. Fun.”

John closed his eyes, licking the sloppy ass of his son and occasionally sucking on that gorgeous dick driving in and out of it, listened to the deep, growling gasps of Chris and the high, breathy whimpers of Stiles and wondered whether he was being punished or rewarded.

**Author's Note:**

> Still here? Liked it? Why don't you leave a little something on your way out :)
> 
> You can also join [ me ](http://cyberratting.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!
> 
> I'm open to suggestions, btw.


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